Cal stopped on the street corner. The wind bit through his coat. He looked at the sheriff's office across the square. Sheriff Miller was standing in the window watching him. Miller looked away, ashamed.
The law was not broken. It was bought. Cal realized then that there was no gavl coming to save them. There was no cavalry riding to the rescue. The cavalry was the hammer being swung by the very men committing the crime.
He mounted his horse, the movement sending a spike of pain through his side. He turned the animal not toward home, but toward the jagged line of the draons. In the canyon, the mood was one of grim finality. The Apache families were dismantling their summer wikiups. Women were packing dried meat into parfles.
They were preparing to move deeper into the mountains, into the stronghold, a place of rock and ice where an army could not follow, but where hunger would be a constant companion. Nielli stood by the fire, wrapping a blanket around a bundle of herbs. She felt eyes on her back. Gojo stood at the entrance of the lodge. He was not shouting.
He was not striking her. He was standing with a stillness that was far more terrifying. He walked to the fire and kicked a log back into the flames. Sparks flew upward, dying in the cold air. "You smell of him," Gooo said.
Nielli did not look up. "I smell of horse and smoke. You smell of the white man's lies." Go said. His voice was low.
A rumble in the throat. The people talk. They say you meet him in the rocks. They say you plot with him. I plot for food.
Nili said, keeping her voice steady. I plot for the truth. Go crouched down. He grabbed her wrist. He did not squeeze hard enough to break bone, but hard enough to remind her that he could.
"You are my wife," he said. "You are not a warrior. You are not a chief. You belong to this fire, to this bed. I belong to myself," Na whispered.
Gojo smiled. It was a cold, joyless expression. "If you run to him," Gojo said. I will not chase you. I will tell the people that you sold our location to the soldiers.
I will tell them that every child who dies this winter died because Naelli opened the gate. You will be a ghost to us. A traitor. Your name will be spoken only to curse it. He released her wrist.
And the rancher, Gojo added, standing up. When the soldiers come, he will be safe in his house. He will drink his coffee and forget you because that is what white men do. They use and they discard. He turned and walked away into the gathering dark.
Na sat frozen. The threat went deeper than violence. To be an outcast, to be the reason for her people's destruction. It was a weight she did not know if she could bear. But she looked at the fire.
She remembered Cal's face in the cave. She remembered the way he had touched her ribs. Not to possess, but to heal. He is wrong, she thought. But the doubt was a splinter in her heart.
Later that night, a shadow moved at the edge of the camp. Naelli slipped away, moving silent as smoke through the brush. She met Cal in a dry wash a mile from the centuries. He looked worse than before. The bruising on his face had turned a sickly yellow green.
He looked like a man holding on to sanity by his fingernails. The judge did nothing. Cal said immediately. He didn't even offer a greeting. They are protected.
Ny, the corruption goes to the capital. Na nodded. She had expected this. And Gazo prepares to move the band. We go to the high rocks in 2 days.
If you go there, you starve, Cal said. Or the army starves you out in the spring. He stepped closer. He took off his hat, running a hand through his dusty hair. "I can get you out," he said.
Na looked at him. "Out? I have money buried at the ranch, enough for passage to Mexico or California. I can take you tonight. We can ride south, cross the border before dawn.
He was offering her a life. A life without hunger, a life without gojo." "And my people," she asked. Cal looked at the ground. "I cannot save everyone."
Naelli, I tried. I failed, but I can save you. Naelli looked at the moon hanging sharp and white over the desert. She thought of the insults. She thought of the hunger.
She thought of Gooo's threat. If I leave, she said, "I prove Goojo right. I become the traitor he says I am." She looked back at Cal. "I cannot run, Cal.
Not while the lie still stands." Cal looked up. His eyes were full of pain, but also a dawning realization. He nodded slowly. "I will not decide for you," he said.
"I will not be another man telling you where to stand. If you want to fight, we fight." "But how?" Na asked. "The judge is deaf.
The sheriff is afraid. We make them here," Cal said. We stop whispering. We scream. He outlined the plan.
There was a town meeting scheduled for Sunday. a revival gathering with a traveling preacher, a man named Reverend Solaris, who was known for his fiery independence. Traders would be there, the freight drivers, neutral eyes. We bring the proof there, Cal said. We stand up in front of God and everyone. We read the ledger.
We show the manifest. We force the town to look at the theft. It is dangerous, Nili said. It is suicide, Cal corrected. But it is the only card we have left to play.
A rustle in the brush made them both turn. Cal's hand went to his gun. Do not shoot. A voice rasped. An old woman stepped out of the msquite.
It was Guen, the grandmother of the boy who had been murdered. She was small, withered like a dried apple, but her eyes were bright and hard. Behind her stood Taza, a subchief who had often argued for caution against Gojo's rage. We followed you, Taza said. Cal did not lower his hand, but he did not draw.
You heard? Cal asked. We heard. Guen said. She walked up to Naelli and took her hand.
Gojo says you are a traitor. He says you sell us for horses. She looked at Cal, studying his battered face. But a traitor does not weep for the dead. Guen said, "And a white man does not take a beating for a basket weaver unless his heart has changed."
She turned to Taza. The white man speaks truth. Guan said, "The war is a trick." Taza nodded slowly. He looked at Cal with a measuring gaze.
If you go to this meeting, Taza said, "Gojo will try to kill you. The agent will try to kill you." I know. Cal said, "Then do not go alone." Taza said, "When you stand to speak, look to the hills.
We will be watching. If the truth is spoken, we will hold our fire. If you lie, if I lie, you can put a bullet in me yourself, Cal said. Taza grunted. A fair trade.
The plan was set, but the enemy did not wait for Sunday. The next morning, Cal was at his ranch packing saddle bags with the last of his supplies. He was cleaning his Winchester when Luis burst into the house. The old foreman was pale, his breath coming in gasps. "You have to go," Louise said.
"Now? What is it?" Cal asked. standing up. The sheriff is coming with a posi and two marshals from Tucson. For what?
Murder, Louise said. They found a body in the alley behind the saloon this morning. It was Higgins, the clerk. Cal felt the blood drain from his face. Higgins?